I Remember
by Doppleganger Tango
Summary: A collection of insights into the life and love of the MacManus twins. - Twincest, rated for caution.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Each section of this story takes place over different times. The brothers are in an established relationship through all of the story, these are just little insights into the relationship. I do not own the boys, the actors, the story, whatnot. I own a copy of each DVD and I watch them religiously.

Each chapter is rather short, but I posted it all in one go so that they are all there for your viewing pleasure. Rated for sexuality, language, and content. Some violence, but not much. THIS IS SLASH AND TWINCEST. Not your cup of tea? Drink something else. All flames will be used to heat my cup of tea.

This story is based off the song "I Remember" by Yeasayer. An amazing song that I encourage each of you to listen to, either while reading this story or in general. Without that song, this story would not be. The verse that is represented in each story is at the beginning, italicized.

**I Remember**

_I remember making love on a Sunday  
__Bright golden hearts in a fresh cut grass in May_

Murphy MacManus was alone in the almost-apartment while his brother Connor was down the street doing the shopping. They often flipped to decide who was going to do a certain chore. Connor lost on the grocery shopping and Murphy lost on the cleaning of the apartment.

His brother would probably only be gone for twenty minutes, if even. There wasn't much they needed, cigarettes and beer being at the top of the list today, and the store wasn't that far away. Subtracting the time he was already gone, Murphy guessed his brother would be back within the next ten minutes. That would be the perfect amount of time to throw away all of the trash and fake running a cloth over various dusty or sticky surfaces. The brothers were not very clean or organized beings.

Not bothering to do more than pull on a pair of jeans, the dark haired twin set about to throwing the old beer bottles or food containers away, along with empty packs of cigarettes and the cigarette butts that they collected in old plastic cups. Once that was done, he wiped off crumbs and dust and ash from the flat surfaces in the room, setting the clean clothes away from the dirty. They hadn't decided who would do the laundry yet so the pile would just keep growing until they ran out of things to wear.

It was boredom and about five or so minutes until Connor would arrive so Murphy decided to haphazardly straighten the blankets on their beds. It was there, in the corner of Connor's bed, that he found the tied up condom. And although it wasn't the first one he'd found randomly throughout the apartment on various cleaning sprees, or even just when looking for his other shoe, he still found himself embracing the warmth that had spread through him. The warmth that went by the name of love, by the name of Connor.

He closed his eyes after throwing away the evidence of their most recent time together, remembering the feel of his brother's hands and lips and teeth and tongue tracing over his skin. The warmth that spread from the touch and kiss from his lover and brother. It had felt... heavenly.

That thought had brought back the memories from before his brother and himself had even left Ireland, wrapped around one another far away from the watchful eyes of their ma and family, hidden amongst the trees. The grass would be itchy on their skin, dirt would cling to them long after they stopped clinging to one another, but they were together. As they always had been, even from before they knew what they were doing or what it meant. Of course there had been others, while they fought with whether what they felt was right.

Murphy was pulled from his thoughts as his brother stepped in, carrying two brown paper bags, and shut the door with the heel of his foot. He put the bags down infront of the old and worn couch, the familiar clank of beers making Murphy smile, before moving to sit on the chair and pull his shoes off.

Connor had noticed that his brother had cleaned the room a good bit while he was gone and he had to admit, at least to himself, that he was surprised. He had half imagined to come back from the store to the still messy room, for the brothers to fight over and then finally end up doing it together. Or starting it before protbably getting very distracted. They would be cleaning or eating or talking or just sitting there and then they'd start to fight or rough house, and that would always lead to them curled around one another, inside one another, moaning.

"Do ya remember the first time? Our first time?" Connor glanced over from where he was leaning over the grocery bags, attempting to pull out the cigarettes he had just purchased. He didn't have to ask his twin what he meant, and it wasn't because they were often thinking the same things. The way he said it, the tone of his voice... he was talking about their first time having sex. Making love.

"Aye, of course." There was no doubt about it. He often remembered it when he needed help relieving stress and his brother wasn't around.

They had just left the small church in Ireland and were laying in that field, the field that they always went to when they wanted to think or talk or just get away from their ma. And later, after their first time, it would still be their favorite place to go. But they had been out there after church that Sunday instead of going back to their house, smoking stolen cigarettes and keeping quiet. The priest had talked about sin and thoughts that lead to that.

Connor and Murphy both knew what they were going through themselves, the pain of the feelings they didn't really understand that were directed towards the other, but they were oblivious that the suffering was shared. Until that day. The thoughts that lead to sin had entered both of their minds and while they sat, thigh to thigh and smoking a shared cigarette. It was when Murphy was passing the cigarette to Connor that something clicked between the two of them, a spark that jumped from finger to finger.

To this day, much like which was the older brother, they weren't sure which was the first to lean forward. But lips touched and then it wasn't enough. Lips, tongues, teeth came together almost painfully, hands roaming from hair to neck to back and then finally under shirts. They fumbled with their clothes, removing them hastily. And then they moved together, painfully at first and then with nothing but great pleasure. They arched, screamed, sweated until finally they both came, a white hot sort of pleasure bursting from beneath their groins, beneath their eyes, and beneath their hearts.

"Aye, I remember." Murphy glanced up at his brother, who had been silent after first affirming that he remembered. And it was there in Connor's eyes, the memory and the fire and... fuck.

And the two forces merged once more, with Connor ironically thanking God that his brother was only wearing pants and boxers because that made it easier to strip him. And once each was undressed, they wrestled onto Murphy's bed, trying to figure out which was going to be the dominate force in this encounter.

In the end, Murphy was straddling his brother and pressing his hips down, biting onto the throat that was revealed to him as Connor bent his bed backwards and moaned.

Oh yes, they both remembered very well their first time. And it wouldn't take much for them to remember every time since then.


	2. Chapter 2

**I Remember**

_I remember making out on an airplane  
__Still afraid of flying, but with you I'd die today_

When they had decided to leave Ireland for the United States, their ma had taken it hard. They were old enough to leave if that's what they wanted to do, she couldn't really make them stay. She had complained, asking who would take care of her once they were gone. Of course they both had supplied a list of people, family and neighbors, that would take good care of her while they were gone. After all, they wouldn't be gone forever. Just a few years probably.

Of course it wasn't until they had bought their plane tickets and had boarded the damn plane that Murphy realized just how much he did not like the idea of flying. He hadn't thought of it, thought of the implications of buying a plane ticket, until they had boarded and were sitting in their seats, scrunched together and surrounded by people. Screaming babies, coughing and sneezing elderly people, and a woman who was chewing on peppermint sticks as if her life depended on it.

And because it was Murphy, sitting beside his brother (and lover) Connor, he wasn't about to mention anything about this sudden fear. They were on the plane, they would be taking off soon, they would land in Philadelphia after almost eight hours, and then fly from there to Boston. That was almost an hour and a half of a flight. Why they couldn't do a straight flight, Murphy wasn't sure. It couldn't just be to piss him off, or to make him even more anxious.

Their final destination of Boston was because that was where they knew someone. A friend of the family had gone to Boston and at least then they wouldn't be automatically on their own. They could have somewhere to stay while they prepared to find their own place. It was a smart decision.

But with the knowledge that they wouldn't be flying straight there made Murphy actually wish the family friend lived in Philadelphia.

Connor admitted later that his first clue to his brother's uncomfort was that he couldn't stop shaking his legs, his hands were clenched at his knees. Other than those two tells, Murphy almost looked calm. Connor himself was a little anxious, but more excited. They would be on their own for the first time. The part of him that craved independence was celebrating that fact. The part of him that wanted to be able to hold his brother and not worry about their family shunning them was celebrating twice.

Murphy almost jumped out of his skin at the hand that was placed over his. He wanted nothing more than to roll his hand over, to link their fingers, to crawl into the warmth and safety that his brother represented, but he knew that that wasn't possible. They were surrounded by people and that was one of the things they had always been careful to avoid. So he would have to be okay with the hand over his and not want it to be more than that.

Deep down, Connor knew why his brother didn't acknowledge his hand with more than just a slight jerk. They had always been very aware of people, careful not to touch or stare for longer than would be normal for brothers. They had always been very touch friendly brothers, always rough housing or comforting one another, but they tried to keep it brotherly when under the watchful eyes of others. Murphy barely moving when he put his hand over his made sense, even if that sense hurt just a little.

He leaned sideways, to whisper into his brother's ear so that the people closest wouldn't overhear.

"Ya know that the people here don't know that we're related, right?" The little shiver that ran over Murphy was directly related to his brother's words and to the fact that the plane jerked forward, moving down the runway. He wanted to answer his brother, maybe even take advantage of the words, but he was scared stiff. And not in the way he wanted to be right now.

He twisted his hand to grasp Connor's, squeezing a little tigher than intended. That was the second clue that his brother wasn't calm at all. Connor was a little worried. It was an eight hour flight and if they hit turbulence... Murphy was strong, but there was a good chance he'd have a small breakdown before the trip was over with.

"I'm here Murph, I'm here. If something happens, it happens to us both." With his reassurance, Connor's hand wrapped around his, Murphy leaned back with his eyes closed and waited.

He waited for the plane to get into the air and when it did, he didn't let go of the hand in his. Although taking off was supposed to be the scariest part, Murphy was still thinking of all the terrible things that could happen. In the middle of a vivid image of the plane getting struck by lightning and plummeting into the water, a hand was on his face, turning him sideways. Right as he opened his eyes, there was a pair of lips on his and the sensation made him close his eyes again.

Murphy only had to tell himself once that to the people on this plane, they were just two guys that mildly resembled one another that were making out. If there was anyone upset about that, well better than them knowing they were twins.

Connor barely had to touch his tongue to his brother's lips before it opened and there was another tongue there, dueling with his. They both hadn't shaved in a while so there was the added friction of that to the soft, wet feeling of the tongue in his mouth and his hand pressed against his brother's neck, the other one linked with Murphy's and still pressed to his leg.

Murphy snapped to action and moved his free hand up to grab a handful of Connor's collar, pulling their bodies as close as the seats would let them go. He had half a mind to just crawl onto his brother's lap, it wouldn't take much after that, but they were in public after all.

They slowly parted and turned forwards, breathing a little erratic although they both had very large smiles on their faces. Most of the people on the plane seemed not to have noticed their little display, though the lady with the peppermint sticks was staring at them with one in her mouth. Murphy resisted, after an elbow from Connor, from making obscene gestures just for the hell of it.

Before the plane landed, they had had three other makeout sessions, one that left both of them with a certain uncomfort in their jeans. They both ignored it until the plan landed where they made a mad dash for a close bathroom, locking the door and taking care of themselves as quickly as they could. Panting and thrusting, warm mouths on every bit of skin possible while trying to get out their frustrations before going back in public.

"Ya fuck-ing teeeease." Connor's words were almost drowned out by Murphy's answering moans around his brother, the sensation causing Connor to throw his head back against the wall and groan loudly as he reached his peak.

When they were done and cleaned up, sitting in the uncomfortable chairs and waiting for their next plane to start boarding, they found themselves in a comfortable silence. It was like that for them, even without the sex (or bathroom blowjobs). Words simply weren't needed sometimes. However Murphy felt that words were needed right now.

"Thank ya, for distracting me." Connor smiled, remembering just the ways he had wanted to distract his brother on the flight, and decided those would have to wait until they were settled in Boston.

"I know ya didn't like flying. Just trying to help." Murphy returned his brother's smile and bent to look at the book in his lap, not really reading the words. He was definitely still scared of planes, but with a distraction like his brother, it wasn't that big of a deal. He had every intention of keeping up that distraction for their next flight too.

And like Connor had said, if something happens, it happens to them both.


	3. Chapter 3

**I Remember**

_I remember the smell of your skin forever  
__Love us being stupid together_

Rocco had been a good friend to the MacManus twins since their first meeting, even if that night had ended in an all over trip to the hospital. It never failed that the three of them together would cause a fight to break out somewhere. They usually came out with the upperhand, but not always.

That was what lead the twins to be cooped together in Connor's bed while Rocco snored on from Murphy's a few feet away. They had gotten into a small fight the night before at a local bar, not McGinty's though, which had lead into the street. From there it went downhill, literally, as Murphy and Rocco had tripped and rolled down the sidewalk. Connor was pressed against a wall, cursing and throwing out punch after punch into the thug that was trying to get the best of him. He knew that his brother could handle himself, Rocco too in most cases, but he still wanted to end his own spar quickly so that he could make sure.

Two quick jabs into the ribs and then a knee into the face caused Connor's opponent to go down. A quick check told him that he wasn't getting up anytime soon. When he turned to look down the hill, it was to see Murphy seconds from bashing the guy that had tackled Rocco with what looked like a plank of wood. After that, Rocco was able to roll over and give quick punches before the three of them heard the sirens. It probably wasn't meant for them- who in this area would call the cops?- but they still gathered each other and limped towards the apartment. The elevator wasn't working today so they made the trip up the steps to the fifth floor and collapsed, Rocco on Murphy's bed and Connor and Murphy in Connor's.

Connor knew that even though they were not surrounded by the watchful eye of their ma, that didn't mean they could be too open with their relationship. It was just as taboo here as it had been in Ireland. People at work saw them as playful brothers, beating each other with raw meat or randomly tackling each other onto the floor. It wasn't a fight to touch each other, a reason to rub against one another, not to their co-workers. Doc had seen them being too friendly before, lingering touches and almost kisses, but attributed it to the twins being overly drunk and their closeness.

There was something to be said about his restraint, though, as his drunken and passed out brother pushed himself against him, a leg wrapped over his and an arm tucked under his back, soft breathing against his shoulder. Connor himself was pretty drunk, but not drunk enough to roll over and press his lips to his brother's, not drunk enough to run his hand over and under the shirt Murphy was wearing, not drunk enough to fumble with the belt or the buttons or zipper on his pants.

Connor could remember the laughter before the fight, he could even remember the exact joke that Rocco had told that had caused the three troublemakers to attack them. It was just something that happened with them. Not that they couldn't get into trouble without Rocco. A lot of their fights did take place without Rocco. It was something about the brothers that just caused people to want to hit them.

As the sun came up, Connor cursed his overactive drunken mind. He hadn't gotten any sleep. Murphy was starting to wake, if his movement and hungover groans were anything to go by. He was twisting, stretching in his half awake state, rubbing his body against Connor's. And just when Connor was about to stand up, to move to the couch or chair or even go for a walk so that he didn't pounce on his brother with Rocco right there, there was coughing and cursing from the other mattress.

Rocco stood up and donned his coat, mumbling as he looked for his cigarettes. When he found them, he lit up and made eye contact with Connor. He was heading to the door before he said anything though.

"I've got errands. I'll see you guys at the bar." And then the door was shut again. So after a quick glance to his brother, Connor got up and crossed the floor, locking the door behind Rocco, and then crossed back to his bed. Usually he would curl into Murphy's bed, especially after such a night followed by no sleep, to sleep until something woke him. Instead he crawled back into his own bed with Murphy, enjoying the rise and fall of his brother's chest as he breathed.

Connor could remember every inch of his brother's skin. Every flaw, every scar, every tattoo, every inch. He had traced them all many times, with his eyes or hands or lips or tongue or teeth. Even though Murphy was wearing jeans and a red shirt, he could still clearly bring the images to his mind. The scar on his hip from where he fell when they were seven, the tattoo on his chest, the expanse of skin on the junction of his leg to his hip that was sensitive to the touch or kiss.

He had no intention of molesting his brother in this state, that hadn't been his plan, but his hand was skimming over his stomach, pushing the shirt up just enough to touch the skin. Murphy was half awake, still probably half drunk, and leaning into the touch. His reaction was making Connor want to touch more skin, so he simply pushed the shirt up and with a little help, pulled it off all together. That done, he licked and bit and kissed at the tattoo on Murphy's chest and then the front of his throat before his lips finding his brother's.

Finally, lips touching and tongues fighting, Connor began fumbling with the belt on his brother's pants. That undone, followed by the zipper and the button, he pushed his brother's pants down. With the darker haired twin wearing only his boxers (which were actually a pair of Connor's but he wasn't about to complain) and Connor still dressed, they started to work on that, rolling over so that Connor was on the bottom this time. Murphy smirked as he pulled off the shirt, kissing and licking his brother's skin as it was revealed, much as had just been done to him. And then off went the pants, much quicker than Connor would have been able to achieve himself.

There was another small fight for dominance, as always, but Connor found himself victorious this time. He fumbled with the condom that Murphy had mysteriously pulled out of nowhere but once it was on, they were gone. Panting and twisting and arching and moaning, all before Connor had even entered his brother.

Their tongues fought, fingers mapping over the other's body as they thrust. Connor could see a new set of bruises on his brother's shoulder, saw him wince as he touched them, and pressed his lips to the blue and purple marks. It was a new mark on his brother, something Connor hadn't memorized yet, but while it was there, he would remember it.

Afterwards, while they lay tangled with each other again, Connor could here the distinct sound of inhaling, over and over agan. If he didn't know better, he'd think his brother was... fuck, his brother was smelling him.

"What're ya doing?" He had to resist the urge to smack his brother upside the head. It would ruin the moment completely. Or make them start fighting which would end in another round of sex. Tempting.

"Smelling ya. I never wanna forget yer smell." It was borderline strange, those words, but Connor knew what he meant. It was the same with Connor and memorizing every inch of his brother, his twin, his love. They were always together, but they weren't always allowed to be together. This was the next best thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**I Remember**

_You're stuck in my mind  
All the time_

My brother was only a few feet away from me at any time it seemed. All I had to do would be to reach out to touch him, make a rude comment, even just give him a look, and I'd have captured his attention completely. I knew that it was the same for him that it was for me; even though Murphy could look completely submersed in whatever we were doing at the time, he was paying at least half of his attention to me. Making sure I didn't get too far away from him, or making sure that I was watching his back, or just making sure I was still there.

It wasn't even just with the fights that we found ourselves in sometimes. It happened at work, it happened at the bar, it happened at the goddamn grocer's. Not that I minded. We constantly needed to prove to ourselves, to each other, to anyone who cared enough to disect our actions, that we were there for one another.

Murph wasn't one to draw too much attention to us if we were in public. Away from peering eyes, he'd let a hand roam over my back or stomach, reach up and squeeze my shoulder, show his affection that way. It was always a game for me in public, to try to get a reaction from him. A heated look would sometimes get one in return. Me running my hands suggestively over his back and hips would either get a glare or a groan, depending on his mood. Away from our usual haunts, I could even dare to drag my lips across his cheek and linger at the corner of his mouth. He'd gotten angry with me once or twice because of my taunts, but usually he just drags me (discreetly, always) into a bathroom or storage room or alleyway to exact his revenge.

As kids, we had the same friends. If they wanted to do something with one of us, they ended up doing it with both of us. Of course as we got older it didn't change too much. We had our own friends, though we stayed together more often than not.

If I had to think about it, I could probably count the number of times back in Ireland that Murph had slept at someone else's house without me on both of my hands without needing to take off my shoes. The number was about the same for me though. We didn't like being apart. It wasn't because we had sexual tension to deal with, though there was that. It was more that we just didn't feel like ourselves when we weren't with each other.

I may have joked once or twice that I was Murphy's better half, but if that was true, it was true for us both. It would explain our connection, beyond just brothers or lovers.

It was a damn rough night when Murphy wouldn't be sleeping on his mattress across from me. I never imagined that he was curling up in a bed with someone else (male or female). That wasn't why I was on edge while waiting for him to come through the door or even just call.

It was because I wasn't there to back him up if needed. He was like Rocco, if lessened, with his mouth going off at the wrong times. Not that there's really a right time to run your mouth. Where Rocco uses jokes and humor to get his face bashed in weekly, Murph just uses his threats. He can handle himself. I knew him well enough to know that without thinking twice. But him, me, or almost anyone, couldn't handle themselves against six men. It had happened before and seeing my brother like that tore at me. I hadn't been there to even the playing field.

And when Murphy walked in, if I hugged him a little tighter than he was expecting or in the times that I could push him against the door or wall or couch or floor or bed (or really any surface that would stand still long enough), he never complained. Except for the once, but I really hadn't meant to shove him back so hard. He'd given me a good smack or two for that one before we found ourselves fumbling with clothes once again.

That was the way we worked. We fought, we fumbled, we fucked. It was how we moved so smoothly from brothers to lovers.

It fit, it seemed, that even when we weren't together, I was thinking of Murphy constantly. It wasn't just the sex, though those images did splash more often than not. It was the lack of connection, one that only him and I shared. Our memories of Ireland, our thoughts about work, our tales of drunken fun, our unfaltering sense of keeping each other safe.

Three feet away or three hours since I'd last seen him, Murphy was the one on my mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**I Remember**

_I remember Monday making your eyes red  
Still don't know what it is that I said_

It wasn't anything new for the brothers to fight verbally. It had been a favorite pasttime for them when they were younger and their ma had put them in separate corners. And although they both would probably deny it with their dying breath, sometimes the words or insults or general hatefulness would hurt the other.

That would be what caused Connor to be staring at the recently slammed apartment door. Fuck, what had he even said to piss his brother off? They had been silent for the past ten minutes, so whatever it was, it had been building up. Fuck.

And it would be that manly pride, arrogance, that made Connor wait in the apartment for his brother to return. It was noon, he probably would come back by one, two at the latest. By then, Connor wanted to know exactly what it was that he had said that drove Murphy to stalk off like that. What had they even been fighting about? It was a cool Monday afternoon, they had the day off from work, and they would spend the first few hours fighting and then not talking to one another. Perfect.

Connor didn't start worrying when his brother didn't return by two. He was almost glad, because he hadn't figure out what he had said yet. His brother was acting like a woman, running off like he had. His feelings got hurt so he ran instead of talking about it.

At ten past six, Connor had forgotten that he was angry with his brother for his (probably deserved) anger. He was worried about his brother. Six hours wasn't normal for Murphy to come to grips with his anger.

He grabbed his coat and made his way out of the apartment, careful to drape his rosary over his neck. Murphy had his and that was the only thing that comforted Connor, and it wasn't even that much of a comfort.

Murphy would be found walking laps over a couple of blocks, smoking cigarette directly after cigarette and grumbling. People would give him wide berth, for the most part thinking he was probably insane. When the twins spotted each other, Connor felt as if he could do anything. His brother was alive, was well, was going to get a thrashing for worrying him like that. Murphy was trying to keep his calm even though he knew that his eyes were stinging from earlier still.

The problem was, Murphy couldn't remember what had caused him to rush out of the apartment like that. He remember fuming over it for the first hour, but the last couple of hours he spent trying to remember what it was, and why it bothered him.

But that was forgotten as the pair embraced, uncaring that anyone could walk by right now. They weren't too far from the apartment but they just couldn't care right then. It was the feel of Murphy's cold fingers on Connor's neck and the smell of cigarettes on Murphy that was making Connor want to light up. They were both there and the fight from earlier didn't matter. It wouldn't be remembered, as it seemed neither twin could even remember what it was about in the first place. All that would be remembered would be the hug in the middle of a sidewalk with people walking by, some discreetly watching and others not noticing anything beyond their own problems.

Instead of heading to the apartment, they made their way to McGinty's and drank their fill before stumbling back to the apartment. The elevator was out (was it ever working when they were drunk or tired or sore?) and after the tredge up the steps, neither felt like talking.

On a good night, the twins would have sex and then pass out curled together on whichever bed they had made it to first. Most of the time though, they slept on their own beds. They fell asleep easier if they were facing each other at first, but they would end up on their back, front, side, half off the bed, tucked completely under the cover, or even with their head at the foot of their bed by the morning.

There were nights though that they would curl together in one bed, shed off their clothes to their boxers, and just sleep. No wandering hands, at least that they had control of, and no sexual intent. They weren't curled together because Rocco or someone was knocked out on the other bed, they weren't curled together because it was winter and their blankets weren't thick enough to defeat the cold. They were curled together because they needed the comfort, the inner warmth, that the other provided.

When they wake up, of course, they would tender over the subject of Murphy's disappearance the night before. Connor would tred softly, not knowing that his brother didn't remember the cause either. But once that was in the open, and both were over the embarrassment (Connor of not remembering and being so worried, Murphy of not remembering and being so bothered in the first place), they would come together for a quick hug, a kiss if they could spare it, and then prepare for work.

No one commented on the difference at work, how Connor and Murphy weren't their playful selves and barely moved out of each other's sight. They had seen it before, contributing it to the personality of the twins. It was something the workers had learned to except. On the walk home, the brothers kept just enough distance between themselves that another person, if needed, could probably slip through. The elevator was working and they made the ride in silence.

Inside the apartment, they changed out of their clothes that smelt like the meat packaging plant. Although there wasn't any hot water, they took a shower quickly, not bothering to put on more than a pair of boxers and ratty robe each afterwards.

"I'm sorry for worrying ya Con." Connor glanced up from his bed where he was relaxing.

"Sorry for pissing ya off Murph."

And then it would be okay again. A wink, a nudge, a playful comment, a few brotherly slaps later and the two would be completely fixed after their fights. That's just how it went for them. And if it ended with one brother on top, both of them working towards the same goal, well all the better.


	6. Chapter 6

**I Remember**

_I remember thinking this would never end  
Even when you're gone, your eyes running through my head_

Finding their da, someone they had never thought they'd ever meet, had been a strange blessing. He had walked in just as they were saying their prayer for Rocco, two pennies on his eyes after they had uprighted him. Bloodied, bruised, but not beaten. They wouldn't let this be the end.

There were always people shooting at them, ever since they started this crusade. Surprisingly, neither of the twins had to do much to explain to their da that they were on a mission from God and it wasn't over yet. They had escaped Boston for a while, to regroup and recoup. Those three months felt like three years. And then they heard the news of Yakavetta's trial and they knew. Divine calling as it were, they knew that this was the time.

Connor and Murphy hadn't had a lot of time together by themselves since their da had shown up. They barely noticed, rather focusing on what needed to be done and the shock that was being together with him. It was the night before the trial when Noah MacManus opted to go for a long walk by himself in the middle of the night, promising his sons he'd be back soon, that they were finally forced to deal with what was going to happen.

It wasn't the guns and the murder and the blood. It wasn't that they were going to force an entire courtroom of people, half of which were probably innocent of any travesty, to watch them murder a man. They had discussed the plan to the point of being able to do it in their sleep, so it wasn't that either. It was simply that after this, after Yakavetta was killed, they were going back to Ireland. They were going to lay low, get the heat off their back a little, before continuing their mission.

Back in Ireland, it would be slightly more difficult for them to be exactly what they were. And in the dark of the motel room (thank you Paul Smecker), they let themselves be exactly what they were for the first time in a long time.

It was familiar hands on familiar skin, slow and easy at first. But pent up frustrations, pent up lust, pent up everything expelled and soon they were a blur of teeth and nails, lips and tongues, grunts and moans and pleasure filled broken statements in every language they knew. When they finished, they dressed and simply lay beside one another. They were both thinking the same things, though maybe not at the same speeds. Murphy couldn't sit still, was twitching to keep from rotating every three minutes. Connor was more collected, the only sign that he was less than calm being the ragged rate of his breath.

"Murph, would ya sit still? I'm starting to get motion sickness over here." There was a mumbled apology from Murphy, which might have actually been "fuck you" and not an apology at all, and then they were still, minds still whirring past them.

They knew that returning to Ireland would make it harder for their relationship to continue. Not that it would stop them, they would just have to be careful. People were always looking for something to talk about in that country, always looking for something they can spread around entire small neighborhoods and it wouldn't end well.

"I thought it would be forever, ya know?" Murphy didn't have to ask his twin what he meant, for he was thinking the same thing. It wasn't a fling, or even just a fleeting love, that they would get past. For them, the love that they had for one another was brotherly and something that simply touched the soul. If they weren't able to be together, neither were worried about the other going to someone else. They would work it out. They had to.

"It will be Murph. It will." Connor leaned over to Murphy and pressed their lips together, bringing a hand to trace over his brother's shoulder and neck and finally his face. It was calming, comforting. They pulled away from one another and simply lay side by side when they heard a key in the door before their father appeared. If he had any thoughts about their position, he didn't voice them. After nodding to them, he moved to his bed and rolled over to go to sleep.

After the Yakavetta trial, they made their way to Ireland (again, thank you Paul Smecker) and moved into a small home away from the town. It was a small house, with only two real bedrooms, so the boys found themselves once again sleeping only a few feet away from another.

It happened three weeks after they moved in. Da had mumbled something about heading to the town for supplies and would be back within a few hours. They barely waited for him to be up the road before they started to act like when they were younger and ma would leave them to their own devices for a while. Giddily tackling one another, moving about the house in chase, and then finally collapsing on the bed that Murphy had only just vacated not too many hours ago.

Often during the three weeks, while helping their da start to make the house their home, they would get into minor scraps with one another. Noah had witnessed his fair share of their brotherly spats to learn to just let them fight and then when it was over to get them back to work. The times that he stepped out of sight were the ones were the fumbling and the fighting would turn into a different type of panting and passion. And if Murphy's mouth was bruised, it was because his brother had hit him there. And if Connor had a small bruise on his neck, it was because that's where his brother had pinched him.

Not to mention the random bite marks.

But with their da gone for the first time in three weeks, they took their time to strip each other. Shirt first, which gave each twin the right time to lick and bite and love every inch of skin. And then pants, which Murphy always enjoyed taking off quickly while Connor usually went slower, to heighten the suspense. Suspense wasn't something Murphy handled well and if he rolled his brother over more forcefully than he wanted to, he was allowed. And if, as he claimed control of the act, he was a little rougher than usual, Connor didn't complain.

The next time that supplies were needed, Noah sent Murphy. He was still a little wary of leaving his sons home alone after the last time when he came home to find Connor with a limp and an array of bruises that neither of his sons felt the urge to explain. One of their brotherly fights had gotten a little out of hand.

Time went on after that in a way that the brothers were content with. It was a lazy life, a calm life that they both took pleasure in. They missed the urgency and the danger of their life in Boston (and that was before they started their mission), and they missed their friends, but Ireland was calming them. They didn't think that when one left the room, they might not come back. That a Russian gangster might break in, handcuff one of them to a nearby toilet and leave with the other to shoot in the head next to the dumpsters. They were safe here.

They spent enough time fumbling with each other in dark corners, or in the middle of the woods, or a few times in the barn as quickly as they could without being missed. Without being physical, they were still as close emotionally and mentally that they had ever been.

When one was in town, in separate rooms of the house, or even just lying in their bed only a few feet away, they kept each other close. Murphy had mentioned that if he ever felt like his brother was too far away, he could conjure a memory of the two of them together, either playfully or sexually, and be content that he had his brother's love. Connor as well admitted that even if he was right next to his brother, working on something with their father or just wasting time, he often would bring to surface the memories of his brother asleep in the nude during the summer and reflect on every inch of his skin.

It was difficult for their relationship, as brothers, at the time. Surrounded no longer with the danger of their mission, they were now surrounded with the danger of their father finding out of the incestuous relationship between his twin sons. But just because they could not reach out to one another in public, could not curl around one another when winter started to sneak into the room at night, that did not mean that their love disappeared at all.

It grew stronger, simply enjoying the times that it was allowed to be expressed.


	7. Chapter 7

**I Remember**

_You're stuck in my mind  
All the time_

If you cared to ask anyone about us, most people would say that Connor was the more level-headed twin while I took the role of the restless twin. Sure our roles were switched from time to time. I can remember thousands of times that I've had to slap Connor to keep him in line. It's just the way that we were, always half ready to start trouble.

Boston was a great place for us to settle down. After we had moved out of the friend's house, we had stayed in a couple of seriously sketchy places before finally settling down in a squatter's apartment. It was on the fifth floor, which we both grumbled about at first, but it was big enough for the two of us and that's what mattered. Getting the job at the meat packaging plant had been a little blessing, running on low with our reserved funds was making both of us a little nervous.

Our co-workers must have noticed our strange ways, but they accepted them pretty quickly. We had ways of finishing each other's thoughts, of sharing one look and knowing what needed to be done, of always dealing out the smallest touches. They never questioned our connection, our looks, our touches. They knew that it was because we were twins, we were connected in ways that even lovers didn't understand.

And what they didn't know was that we had the connection of lovers on top of our brotherly connection. We kept that to ourselves, not wanting to set us away from everyone else. We both showed uninterest in the girls at the plant, though more than a handful were definitely attractive, but that was passed as not wanting to mix our personal lives with our work life. It worked so that's all that I cared about.

Nights that we went to the bar, McGinty's, where Doc would pour us shots and beers while mixing up common place sayings or randomly yelling "Fuck! Ass!", were my favorite. We would separate sometimes, talking to random people in the bar, but always keeping one another within sight. That was at McGinty's, but it was very different when we strayed to bars we didn't frequent as often.

One of the other bars we went to sometimes, a hole in the wall type of place that we enjoyed the most, was called Two Leaves. There we usually stayed beside each other, our legs touching in ways that seemed innocent but were sending enough signals to my spine, head and heart to cause a fire. And my brother would shoot me innocent smirks more often than not, as if urging me to make my own move against it.

After the first few times of going to the Two Leaves, it got just to the point that we felt comfortable separating. Even with such a distance between us, I could feel Connor's presence at all times. He was on the other side of the room, talking to a couple of guys, using his hands and facial features to keep the guys laughing. He was good at that, at keeping people at ease. I was propped up against the bar with a few too many beers already settling in me, chatting with a guy and two girls that had joined us.

One of the girls had spied the tattoo on my neck and complimented it. She had a few of her own, but they were difficult to show in a bar. She wasn't flirting with me, just stating a fact. With her interest in tattoos, I rolled up my sleeve to show her the one on my hand and forearm. She grasped my wrist and ran her fingers over the cross on my forearm, commenting on the shading and the lines. We talked easily after that, soon forgetting the two that were beside us, discussing tattoo ideas.

Not long after she had finally gotten the nerve to show me the tattoo on her back by lifting up her shirt, the names of her two kids she said, I felt a hand clamp spainfully on my elbow. Attached to the familiar tattooed hand was a familiar tattooed arm, both on dispaly since Connor's shirt was rolled up to his elbows. He had a strange look on his face, one I had seen before but in my drunken state couldn't place. The girl made a sound in her throat as she eyed the tattoos on Connor's arm and the look he was giving me.

With a smile, she was gone. Connor made a sound which was delayed in my hazy mind before grabbing our jackets and quickly paying the tab before pulling me into the night air. It wasn't winter yet but it was starting to get cold already.

"The fuck Con!" He was pulling us down the street at a break neck speed and at my exclamation, he turned us around and pulled me into the alleyway. Something told me that he was about to hit me, that he was mad at me for something, but the hand that touched my face and neck was gentle.

Jealousy. The look he had was jealousy. The girl in the bar, the exchange of tattoos, my interest. My only thought was to chase away whatever thought that Connor had that would give him that look so I reached up, threading my fingers into his hair, and pulled his mouth down to mine.

Anyone that passed would just think that it was two people kissing in the dark. And that's what it was. Connor had responded and I knew that he understood what I was telling him with every kiss, bite, moan. Our tattooed hands came together, linking at the knuckles, and the kiss slowed down to be more romantic. The urgency was gone, replaced with complete love.

Of the millions of people in the world, Connor was the one on my mind.

* * *

**Author's Note: **This would be the end of this story for me. Not to say that I'll never write another story about them. Don't know yet.

I hope you enjoyed this story. It spanned over a few weeks and I did the best that I could. Review and let me know what you think.

If you have any ideas for other song inspired chaptered stories like this, any fandom, let me know.


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